


devil in the details oneshots

by carrionkid



Series: Devil In The Details-Verse [4]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Heroes to Villains, M/M, Morning Routines, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Scars, Sharing a Bed, Vigilante Centric Semi Nonsexual Throuple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24068161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrionkid/pseuds/carrionkid
Summary: exactly what it says on the tin, a collection of oneshots set in the devil in the details verse. tags will be updated as chapters get added!
Relationships: Elektra Natchios/Matt Murdock/Lester | Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter, Lester | Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter/Matt Murdock, Matt Murdock/Elektra Natchios
Series: Devil In The Details-Verse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1372525
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	1. 01. scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first up is a little character exploration of the three members of the throuple, done in the form of a scar cataloging fic. tw for references to past self harm

Bullseye stands on the threshold of their bedroom, naked and uncertain under her careful eye. This level of ease between them is still quite new and she finds that she is not the only one stumbling around the feeling as though she were a newborn faun.

Bullseye is freshly cleaned and the water still beads across his skin. He is far more cleanly than she ever would have presumed, almost ritualistically so. He is never much to look at and is far more plain and pathetic looking when he is nearly soaking wet.

However, the scars draw one's eye quite readily. There is the curving gash across his scalp, barely covered by short, choppy hair of dishwater blonde. Lighter yet is the spider-web of crosshairs cut into his forehead. It is joined by several others at his lip, across his cheekbones, and his jaw.

Those are not the most eye-catching marks. That honor is held by the burns dotted as if imitating constellations from his biceps to his wrists. By now, she knows that they are not self-inflicted; he has not admitted to it, but it is far from his style of self injury.

There are a scant few burns on the back of his hands, but mostly they are marked by cuts from broken glass and china. She knows many of them are freshly scarred over and must hurt more than the others.

In the weeks leading up to their current situation, he would previously cover himself shyly, attempting to shrink away from Matthew and herself. Now he stands as straight as he can manage with his wrists loose at his sides.

It is not as though he needs to cover himself anyway. The curled knot of shiny scar tissue snaking across his belly distracts from the mere starts of breast tissue quite handily. She is responsible for it and she feels little remorse.

There are a few other small marks across his belly and his hips and she is aware of several spots on his back that make him flinch when they are touched. 

"Will you stand there all night or are you going to join us?" She asks with her voice even.

He always watches her as though she has some secret meaning to her words and perhaps sometimes she does, but tonight she is being truthful.

Bullseye makes his choice and steps towards the bed. She watches the faint marks on his legs, receiving far less injury than his arms, and how bare his inner thighs are.

Elektra understands Matthew better than anyone else, which is how she knows that he is enticed by that emptiness as well. He gorges himself on the untouched; on the soft, sweet places no one has gotten to yet. Neither of them have very many of those places left, yet still, Matthew remains by their sides.

He accommodates Bullseye without a word, moving closer to her side to allow him space on the bed. He seems to favor Matthew over her, at least when it comes to nights like these. Bullseye wraps his arms around Matthew's neck and nips at his jaw, nearly begging for attention.

Were he anyone else, she would be inclined to jealousy, but he barely counts as competition and there is, to some degree, a magnetic allure to him. Bullseye is an oddity, something for her to unravel until she has reached the core of him.

* * *

He wants to explore Matty, get to know him now that they've finally got some fucking downtime. They've all been together for…  _ awhile,  _ but there's never been any time to  _ breathe _ .

So he kisses at Matty's jaw, figured out by now that he likes it, likes it when you mouth at his neck too, and when you mark him up. 'Lektra usually takes care of that part, but sometimes he likes to bite Matty's soft skin, just enough to leave an impression, and see what noises he'll make.

_ Give 'em an inch and they'll take a mile,  _ he thinks, and Matty reaches for his thigh. Above where the burns from dear old dad start up, and maybe that's why  _ he  _ likes it so much. 

But it's a trade off, Bullseye doesn't flinch, doesn't shake him off, and in return, he gets to slip his hands under Matty's shirt. 

He's seen him before, lots of times since they started this arrangement, but this is about  _ feeling _ him. About making sure it's all real. Feels like a dream come true some days and a nightmare others.

Right now it's a dream, even though Matty's hands on him makes his skin prickle a mite. He's touchy, nervous. Wouldn't ever admit it though. He doesn't want to lose whatever he's got going on here.

He taps his thumb against the V of Matty's hip, drags it down over the bone until he hits a knot of skin. Twisted up, puckered, but still smooth.

"Bullet hole?" He asks, and Matty makes a low, rumbling sound.

So he moves on, works his way up slowly. He reaches Matty's ribs, feeling out another thin line of scar tissue. Might even be one of his, which sure makes him feel a certain way, knowing he's already  _ marked  _ Matty.

His skin is warm, breathing nice and steady, and Bullseye'd ask to take his shirt off if he wasn't worried about breaking out of this little trance. Turns out he doesn't have to, though. Matty peels off his shirt, tosses it off the end of the bed. Then, he kisses Bullseye. Soft, warm, easy as breathing and just as familiar.

Bullseye pulls back, doesn't want it to get too far along. Not tonight, he's on edge. Just wants to get to  _ know  _ Matty. He wondered once if they look the same under their suits and this is about as close to an answer as he's ever gonna get.

There's a helluva lot less scars on Matty, but he's got gunshots like fucking constellations. One at his hip, another at his shoulder, graze scars here and there. Makes him wonder if there really is someone out there looking after his altar boy.

And he  _ is  _ Bullseye's. Just the thought's enough to get him giddy as a schoolgirl. His to touch, to kiss. Doesn't even flinch when Bullseye pulls him in, smiles against his lips. Traces his thumb over Matty's cheek, over his cheekbones, sharp as a knife.

Until Matty catches his wrist. Holding firm, not tight enough to hurt.

"Please?" Bullseye whispers, "I'll be gentle, promise."

"Just this once."

And he keeps a hold on Bullseye's wrist. Lets his eyes flutter shut, jaw clenched tight. It's almost enough to talk Bullseye outta doing this, but he's always been so damn curious. 

The scars hardly show, nothing more than faint discoloration, just the slightest bit shiny, but he imagines they must've been magnificent once. Fuckin' spectacular.

He runs his fingertips, gentle as he can manage, over the soft skin under Matty's eyes. Barely brushes against it, listens to how he gasps. The scar tissue is smooth, smoother than the rest of Matty's skin.

"Stop," Matty whispers, voice stretched to the point of breaking, "Stop."

He pulls back, holds his hands close to his bare chest. Hurts more than he expected when Matty rolls on his side, facing Elektra. Ends up showing marks on his back like he's been beaten raw before.

Bullseye knows better than to ask about it, just kisses the base of his skull. Wraps his arms around Matty's hips.

* * *

He tries to ignore the churning feeling in the pit of his stomach. It isn't just from the sensation of Bullseye, ever the unexpected bedfellow, touching what's left of his chemical burns. No, it's something else.

Something leaden heavy and gilded with guilt that makes him reach out for Elektra. He's missed her, more than anything. He was missing her long before she dropped out of school and disappeared from his life.

The Lord works in mysterious ways and now here she is, back in his bed. That doesn't mean she's the same person she was back then. Though when it really comes down to it, he's changed, too.

Matthew wants to make up for the lost time. He wants it so badly his heart aches, and that's what gets him to run his hand over her stomach. He feels for the cut she got just a few weeks ago.

The scar is twisted, uneven, out of character for her others. It wasn't cared for by a professional, no, it was mended hastily, with her own two hands. 

He mouths at her collarbone. Maybe, he's destined for Hell no matter what he does because above all else, he wants to worship her.

The further his hand slips up her stomach, the more marks he finds. They're equally uneven, probably collected over her years doing Lord knows what since he saw her last. Some days he can barely believe that she ended up an assassin, but she's always had a sharpness to her.

She takes his hand, guides it up past her bra and settles it over her heart. It beats steadily, and he knows she feels at ease here.

"Those ones were new," he whispers, nipping at her earlobe.

He used to know all her marks. The uniform ones on the inside of her arms, the twin punctures, like spider bites, near her hips, the careful tally marks on her thighs. It used to concern him, before he realized the reasoning behind it. Sometimes, you need reminders of your continued existence.

She still has all of them. He can feel them, faded as they are when he traces his hand down her arm. He can feel them when he tucks his leg between hers, trying to wrap around her until they're right flush against each other.

Bullseye grumbles at that, but he catches up quickly, bony edges pressed right into Matthew's back. He's nearly as cold as a corpse, but there's an undeniable draw towards him.

He reminds Matthew of Elektra, in one way or another. Maybe that's just his game, but he's got a persuasive mouth, hard at work kissing Matthew's neck, working down to his shoulder. After reaching there, Bullseye rests his cheek against it, letting Matthew get back to Elektra.

She kisses his forehead, fingers working through his hair. Matthew pulls her in and in until she's facing him, ignoring the newer slashes at the small of her back.

She's warm and her arms feel like home. Even after all these years.

Oddest of all, the sense of completion, of wholeness, outweighs the stone of guilt curdling in his core. He feels  _ right  _ with Elektra's body flush with his, with the bony, uneven sensation of Bullseye's arms around his waist, ribs digging into his back.

He's caught between them both, the spiders and the fly, but he couldn't be happier about it.


	2. 02. morning paper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one look at their morning routine

Bullseye's usually the first to wake. Never sleeps too deep, unless he's trying to recover from something or another. Then he sleeps like the fucking dead.

But he doesn't get hurt as much these days, and when he  _ does,  _ Matty and 'Lektra take  _ care  _ of him. Not saying he never gets hurt, but he's getting his fix in better ways than goading someone into kicking the shit outta him. Now the only time he's getting hurt is when he's on the clock and they're usually all a little worse for wear after getting a job done.

Anyway, he's not hurting too bad today. It's starting to get cold, which doesn't do him too many favors, but it's nothing new. Just the old, dull ache. The one he carries around like a ragged fucking suitcase, everywhere he goes.

He's restless, can't find a position that eases it up at all. Matty's asleep, curled against Elektra's side, and she looks like she's out cold, too. But if he's careful, quiet as a mouse, he can get up without bothering them too much.

Doesn't stop him from burying his face against Matty's back, just for a few seconds. Used to always wake them up, whenever he'd try and slip outta bed. But now, Matty just kinda hums, doesn't even shift when Bullseye gets up. He figures by now they always know he'll come back.

Sometimes, he makes breakfast. Surprises them while they're still in bed. It helps keep his mind off things, but there's only so much he  _ can  _ make, figures they're probably tired of the same shit over and over and some days it gets to him worse than others, feeling like he's back at home trying to make something to eat before dad finds out and knocks his lights out.

Most of the time, he just wanders.

Like now, he grabs the robe hanging on their door. Could be any of theirs, silky smooth and more than likely red. Isn't quite feminine, but it's soft, pretty. Nicer than anything he'd been used to before this arrangement. Wraps it around himself and stalks out into the hallway.

They're shacked up in a brownstone these days, two fucking stories which he'd be lying if he said it wasn't a lot to handle. Never really had much space to deal with and he prefers feeling cramped, closed in. Makes him feel safe for some fucked up reason. But Matty and 'Lektra said the old apartment was suffocating and yeah, it was a little too close for comfort, but he liked it better than this.

He's growing to like the new place, though. Lets him wander without straying too far. Still is trying to make himself settle down, ease into it.

Got a bad habit of checking all the rooms, starts in their bedroom and makes his way over to the second bedroom, just for show, so all of Elektra’s entourage don’t start asking too many questions. Then, he moves downstairs, into the foyer. Works through the kitchen and dining room, then the living room, and finally stops to get the mail.

_ That's  _ real fuckin' novel. They get  _ mail. _ He's really only interested in the news; Matty and Elektra can deal with the bills and the invitations to social events and the charities asking for donations. 'Cos it's his other little ritual, looking through the obits to find who they've taken care of.

He slips back into the bedroom, just as quiet. Had a lot of practice with not making much noise at all, quiet as a church mouse these days even if he's not a wide-eyed little fox of a kid, scared out of his mind.

"Mm, come back to bed, beautiful," Red mumbles, reminds him that no matter how light his steps are, he'll always know where Bullseye is, "What's got you up so early?"

"Couldn't sleep, and it's not early anymore. Awful late for you to still be lounging around."

"Yeah? Well, maybe I was waiting on  _ you _ , loverboy."

"Can't start your day without me?" He smirks, joins them anyway, ‘cos why wouldn’t he?

'Lektra's still half asleep, or at least pretending to be. She’ll probably stay in bed for a while, 'cos her only day job is to look good for the press, the prettiest girl at the junior prom. And everyone loves her for it, save for the two of them, but they've got more than enough  _ other  _ reasons to love her.

Like the way she kisses his shoulder when he slots himself perfectly in between them. They've never really talked about it, but he's got an awful lot of lines, ones he's telling himself he won't let anyone cross, even if they ask all gentle-like, give him all the attention he's starved for. She can kiss him, just not on the lips, not on his neck, a handful of other places she hasn't even tried yet but they'll cross that bridge if,  _ when _ , they get to it.

Matty slips under his arm, head resting against his chest. Won't be comfortable for long, but for now it's better than anything. He rests his forearm against Matty, unfolds the paper and starts thumbing through.

"Any good news?"

"Not where I'm lookin'," he laughs ‘cos they do this every damn day but Matty still asks.

Sometimes he even reads the articles out to Red, but they're usually a mite too long and 'Lektra ends up taking over, which makes his face flush, burning right up to his ears. He's the only one here that never made it to college, never learned to read too good, either. 

(He knows a lot, when it really comes down to it. More than he realizes, ‘cos his memory’s so damn spotty. But he figured all of that out on his own fucking time, never had anyone to help him with anything until  _ now. _ )

But on a good day, he can manage the obits. And it feels like today's gonna be a  _ very _ good day; Matty pressed right to his side, soft and warm and smiling; Elektra's forehead resting against his shoulder, nails tracing circles over his stomach. Used to make him flinch, make the scar where she stabbed him get all itchy, but now it helps him settle down.

He takes a deep breath, "Jacob M-um-Mac. MacCafferty. Died peacefully at home-- _ fuckin'  _ lie, he was scared outta his mind when me an' Handsome showed up--the evening of the third."

Red used to hate this, said it was morbid, but he couldn't just  _ not  _ do it. He's the same as anybody else, slave to his compulsions, and yeah, he's at a point where he can call it that. Had it drilled into his head enough times by 'Lektra that it stopped stinging so much.

"He is survived by his three children," he follows along line by line, tracing his blood caked nails over the page; must've been scratching at one of his scrapes again, 'cos it's all dried up, but he coulda sworn he got cleaned up last night, "And his wife, St, uh, Stephan, Stephanie-- nah, there's nothin' interesting there. Let's get to the next one."

They never say anything about the fact he can't read  _ that _ well, always reads out loud, always gets tripped up over something or another. Never even says anything when Elektra takes over for him, always does it without a word. But he's doing fine today, even if he's jumping all over the place something awful.

He mutters all the names to himself, looking for one that sounds familiar 'cos there oughta be a couple of their handiworks in today's paper.

"Ralph Walker, c, car-dee-ack arrest, nah, that isn't ours either. Mm, Lauren Landry, sounds familiar, we did her, right?"

Matty reaches up, thumbs over his jaw, "Yes, dear, we did."

"'Lektra skewered her!" He blurts out, doesn't mean to sound so excited but his memory sure as shit isn't what it oughta be.

"Yes, we needed to leave a message."

"No mercy," Elektra cuts in, "Who or what you are holds no bearing if you cross us. She took our aid and perverted our ideals."

He nods along, even if some of the details are hazy. Lauren was on some committee or another and they'd warned her once or twice, but he can't quite remember what she did wrong. Not that he's too opposed to killing people who haven't done anything, but at least one of his  _ partners _ still has a code to live by.

They've been breaking Matty down, bit by bit. Don't even need to anymore, since he loves them both already, but they can't seem to stop. Not that Red's ever told them to. Almost feels like he  _ likes  _ it. Likes to be in control, likes to make sure nobody gets hurt unless he says they do.

Makes him smile, thinking about his handiwork. Sure, it's not all  _ him.  _ Handsome's done a helluva number on Matty, got him wrapped around her finger. But he knows, deep down in his heart, that Red never did  _ anything  _ like this till Bullseye came along.

It makes him feel good, knowing he's holding Matty's heart like this. Makes him feel awful special.

He sets the paper aside, figures he can always pick it back up later if he gets another wild hare. But for now, he just wants to savor all of this for a few seconds.

"So what are we doin' next?" He asks, nice and easy, shuts his eyes and just soaks up the weight of Matty and Elektra against him.

"Hm, well, we have the benefit dinner on Tuesday," Matty rattles off, working his hands over Bullseye's scalp, "And the meeting with the prison reform group on Thursday. Owlsely wants to talk business  at some point in time, but he refuses to give us a date."

"Got anything up your sleeve for me, baby?"

Matty laughs, "I'm sure we can find something for you."

"Perhaps," Elektra shifts, resting her head in Bullseye's lap, reaching up and cupping his cheek with one perfect, smooth hand, "We shall pay a visit to the police commissioner. The two of us can make quite an impression. It would cause him to think twice about arresting those that we currently employ."

He leans into her touch, rolls the idea around in his head, "Well, it’s been a while since we had to intimidate someone. Maybe we oughta ask your reporter friend if we can get any dirt on him. Blackmail's usually fun."

"How does that sound, dear?" Matty nips at his ear, damn near drives him wild, "Does that make up for the benefit dinner?"

"Yeah, I think it does."

They'll have to get ready for their day soon enough. Matty especially, since he's running a good chunk of their non-profits, plus the charity law clinic. 'Lektra's bound to have some sort of meeting or interview or photoshoot, and he'll go wherever he's needed. But the beauty of having this much  _ power  _ is that they have  _ choices. _

Still, Matty gets restless. Bullseye does too, but not as bad.

He runs his hands through Elektra's hair, careful as can be, "Why don't we get cleaned up all together. Make a morning of it."

He likes those days the best. The three of 'em talking through their plans in the shower together. Just enough space for all of them to fit comfortably, but still close enough that it's downright intoxicating. Doesn't have to go far to remind himself that they're  _ here  _ and they  _ want  _ him.

"That sounds marvelous," Elektra takes his hand, kisses his fingertips before rolling out of bed; she stretches, working her hands through her hair, "Now, boys, don't make me wait long."

Bullseye's the next to get up, doesn't let go of Matty's hand, keeps pulling him along all gentle and playful.

"Come on," he smiles, "Don't make us start without you."

And Matty laughs, makes his heart do fucking flips in his chest, "You two are going to be the death of me."

"Oh, don't kid yourself, you love us!"

Matty gets up, stretches out ‘til his joints pop, “Yeah, I do.”


End file.
